


First Impressions

by tantive404



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, HanLeia Challenge, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Millenium Falcon, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25633399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tantive404/pseuds/tantive404
Summary: In the aftermath of the escape from the Death Star, the Princess has a brief chance to get to know her rescuers. The flight aboard a smuggling ship to a hidden rebel base takes longer than expected, and Han and Leia are both surprised by one another,For the July 2020 HanLeia Challenge prompt "Millennium Falcon"
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49
Collections: HanLeia Challenge





	First Impressions

_ “You came in that thing? You’re braver than I thought!”  _

_ Disbelieving,  _ would be the first word that came to mind when Leia saw the ship on which her rescuers had travelled. It looked like it was fit for the scrap pile _ —  _ held together by nothing but bonding tape and prayers. 

And yet, here it was— apparently still spaceworthy and it had come for  _ her _ — to take her away from the place that had tormented her, that place of nightmares. 

She expected to die when she was captured. She’d escaped the Empire’s grasp far too many times to be able to expect mercy, her missions for the Rebellion growing more and more dangerous. She’d guessed, from a very young age, that she was going to die a martyr. 

It should have been her, she thought.

_ (Yet here she was, still alive, while Alderaan and all her people had died.)  _

She wished she could have gone in their place. 

Instead, she’d been rescued— by the most incompetent team imaginable, no less. 

The man she inferred was their Captain stood beside her, a good head taller than her and incredibly scruffy-looking. 

_ (She tried to convince herself it wasn’t at least somewhat attractive, the dashing, reckless manner in which he carried himself. It didn’t work.. The fact that his shirt hung open to reveal a good portion of his bare chest wasn’t exactly helping.)  _

He looked down at her, seemingly stunned into silence by her words. 

_ (Normally, Han didn’t take an insult to his ship so easy. But they were on the run, and he didn’t have time for a back-and-forth banter with some royalty the kid picked up from the detention center.)  _

“Nice,” he simply shot back. “Come on.” 

They fled— past stormtroopers and blaster bolts and all manner of other perils. 

Finally, they made it— to the broken, worn-down old ship _—_ though at the cost of the old man (Ben, Obi-Wan Kenobi), who was cut down by Vader’s blade. 

_ (How many more people must sacrifice themselves for her? Leia wondered.) _

The ship was worn, the cockpit containing torn-up leather seat coverings and a faint smell that came from the mingling of the scent of whiskey, spice, and cologne. 

It was a smuggling ship. 

She looked at Luke— the bright-eyed boy who’d burst into her cell disguised as a stormtrooper and so earnestly asserted that he was _ here to rescue her _ — now slumped dejectedly over what looked to be a holochess table. 

“I just can’t believe Ben’s gone.” 

His heart ached for this one man— this mentor of his— as hers felt a great, hollow longing for her homeworld— lost to the Death Star’s destructive power. 

As of now, she only felt  _ numb _ — she longed to weep, to mourn her mother and father, her friends and family, the mountains, the rivers, the countless other lives lost _ —  _ her people. 

She had failed them. 

But it was such an incalculable loss— she couldn’t comprehend it now… surely she’d begin to feel its effects later. 

And so she turned her attention to comforting Luke— wrapped her arm around him and told him the words she wished were true of her own loss:  
“There was nothing you could have done.” 

The captain turned around in his chair _ — _ Han, that was his name _ —  _ and she got another good look at his face as he spoke: 

“We’re not out of this yet.” 

They shifted to fight the TIE Fighters, and then, at last, they made it.

__________________________________

In many ways, Leia mused, the ship was not unlike its owner. Much time had passed on their journey to the rebel base, and she’d studied her surroundings on the way there. 

She hoped to get to know her rescuers within the short time they had— between their harrowing escape and the gambit she hoped to pull at Yavin— if they survived, that was. 

Han had made it clear that he wasn’t interested in her or the cause of the Rebellion— he operated solely as a mercenary. She knew the type. In all her years acting as a rebel leader and spy, there had been times the Alliance High Command had needed to hire such figures. 

_ Don’t get attached to him,  _ she told herself. She shouldn’t, anyway. Even if he did care for her, she’d just lose him in the end. 

_ (Like Alderaan.) _

As it turned out, Han and his Wookiee companion (Chewie, she’d heard him called) were hired by General Kenobi. He  _ had  _ received her message, though through proxy _ — _ from Luke Skywalker, a local farmboy. 

_ (Skywalker— it was a name not unfamiliar to her. She recalled her father’s tales of the Clone Wars— a Jedi Knight by the same name. But surely it was a coincidence.)  _

They’d been trying to deliver the plans to Alderaan; they’d got her message. 

But it had been too late. And so they’d found  _ her _ , on the Death Star instead. 

“Why did you do it?” she asked the smuggler captain. “What made you come for me?”

“Listen, Princess, it was the kid’s idea,” he said. “I didn’t have anything to do with it.” 

She raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, that’s right. You’re only in it for the money.” 

He wanted to tell her that was true; he didn’t want this princess to get attached to him— things like that were nothing but trouble.  
_(But what kind of person would he be then?)_

He looked at this woman, this girl, and he thought— she’d really lost everything. Her planet _ —  _ it had been her  _ home _ , it’d meant something to her. And she’d lost it. He’d never had something like that _ — _ growing up on the streets of Corellia, scavenging for scraps with the other orphans, he couldn’t really call such a place a home. The closest he’d had to anything of that nature was the Falcon. 

But before he could make any attempts at consoling her, she turned and left— maybe she was going to the back recesses of the ship, judging by the direction her path took. 

He didn’t understand her; she was a mystery— at once hot and cold, so demanding, so focused on her mission for this hopeless revolution of hers. 

_“Not such a bad bit of rescuing, huh? You know, sometimes I even amaze myself.”_ _  
_ _“That doesn’t sound too hard,” she chided. (Maybe that was what he deserved for such blatant bragging, but sometimes, Han couldn’t help himself.) And then, her next claim: “They_ let us go. _”_

What was she suggesting? That the Empire had put a tracking device on _his_ ship, and he hadn’t noticed? He wouldn’t accept it.   
  
And she spoke, with fire blazing in her eyes, of the importance of that little blue droid the kid was carrying with him. Claimed that it carried the technical readouts for the Death Star. And that it had to be delivered to her Alliance, at all costs. 

Han was glad he was apolitical, that he had no stakes in this, because he knew she was taking a big risk. He did worry, in spite of himself, for the kid and the Princess. He hoped they made it out all right. 

In the meantime, he was just going to collect his reward and leave. He needed the money to pay off Jabba, and that was it. Right? 

__________________________________

Her hands were shaking as she made her way through the ship’s corridor. The medbay; 

she needed to get to the medbay. 

Her body was beaten, cut with scars from the torture droid’s injections. She was sore and everything ached; she’d tried to put on a brave face during the escape from the Death Star but it was clear that her wounds needed tended to. 

_ “And now, Your Highness, we will discuss the location of your hidden rebel base.”  _

Memories of being trapped in the cell, pinned to the wall… No.

She tried to shake them off, but it stayed there, stuck in her head.

And then, she whirled around, and saw  _ him. _

“Hey, you alright sweetheart?” 

“Sure,” she said, but she knew Han saw through her facade. “You don’t happen to have a medbay on this ship?”  
“Why?” he asked. “Are you… _oh.”_

“The Empire’s not exactly  _ gentle  _ with its prisoners,” she noted, exhaling with a shaky breath. 

“ _ Kriff,”  _ Han muttered under his breath. “Alright. The medbay’s this way.” 

He took her arm, and in spite of her reservations, she didn’t protest. Rounding a bend, they made it to a small corner with some medical equipment, stacked upon a shelf. 

“It’s not much, but it’s good to have in case Chewie and I get injured on a smuggling run.” 

She smiled faintly. 

“Just how dangerous is your job?” 

“It gets pretty tricky sometimes. I guess yours does too.” 

“True,” she said. 

“Speakin’ of which, what’s with your plan? If you think the Empire’s tracking the Falcon, why lead them right back to your base?” 

“Sacrifices must be made,” she stated. “It may not work, but if we can lure their battle station out and find its weakness, then our fighter pilots may be able to exploit it more quickly. Our only hope is to destroy the Death Star before it destroys us.” 

She had spirit, Han thought to himself. Spirit and courage. He didn’t know what to say, so he simply said, “Good luck.”  
“But you’ll already be gone by then, won’t you?” 

He was at a loss for words, so he simply swept aside a piece of cloth, revealing the small medical arsenal aboard his ship. Leia surveyed its contents. 

Some bandages, some gauze, a couple cordials, some needles. 

_ No.  _

Thank the stars she wouldn’t be needing an injection. 

She felt a bit lightheaded, and she leaned toward him involuntarily.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Sit down.” 

He wasn’t a doctor or anything, but she needed help. Her bravado hid it well, but he looked at her now, sitting there, and she seemed so  _ small _ . She couldn’t be any older than the kid, and they’d tortured her. For information, or for some sick pleasure, maybe simply because she was against them. 

“Where does it hurt most?” 

“My arm,” she said, “and my neck. Please, I can handle it from here.” 

“Are you sure? I can help.” 

She hated that he was seeing her vulnerable. She was a rebel leader, she shouldn’t show pain or emotion, but, somehow she felt  _ safe _ around this man. In his ship, which looked like it was patched together from scrap, it felt something like a second home. 

_ (Not Alderaan, it could never replace Alderaan.) _

She let him roll up her billowing sleeve, revealing a gash on her left arm where Vader’s torture droid had first injected the serum. 

_ It stung _ — _ kriff, it stung. _

“Here, lemme clean up the blood,” he said, wiping the wound with some gauze. Wrapped her arm in a bandage.  He moved to unzip the collar at her neck. Tugging gently, he pulled it down, revealing the pinpricks on her neck.

“Here, use this cordial, it’ll help disinfect the wounds.”

He poured it into her hand, and she spread it, across the places where she’d been hurt. His hands traced back over them. 

To her surprise, she was glad for his help.

He looked at her, remembering the way she’d  _ clung _ to him in the garbage chute, after they’d all been so sure they were going to die, and he found himself secretly wishing he could be close to her like that again. 

“Thank you,” she said, and he looked back at her, longingly. If she noticed, she didn’t show it.

__________________________________

She stood there in the war room, with the generals and the other officials, watching the monitor that displayed the X-Wings making their attack on the trench run. Luke— dear Luke— in some absurd fit of recklessness, had turned off his targeting computer. Most of the pilots had been wiped out. She wasn’t being unreasonable by fearing for his life. 

Then, suddenly, a familiar voice sounded over the intercom. Another ship—

“Great work kid, now let’s blow this thing and go home.” 

_Han._   
She pictured his old, patched-up Corellian freighter floating triumphantly in the vacuum of space. He’d said he wasn’t going to come back, but he _had_.

_ “I knew there was more to you than money.” _


End file.
